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senoritafishRewind to last Saturday -
I spent 9 'til 1 p.m. at my garden club's annual swap meet space. Once a year, everyone gathers up stuff they want to get rid of, we pay for a space at the swap meet at our local community college (why they still call them swap meets, I don't know - nobody actually swaps anything anymore), and sell some junk. Clothes, knick-knacks, old appliances, toys. We put prices on things, but for the last couple of hours we just let things go for whatever anyone offers. What's left over gets donated to the Project Self-Sufficiency thrift store. These things are dangerous for me, because my pack rat tendencies make me bring more stuff home. I did grab some books to release for BookCrossing, a small piece of mirror for one of John's woodworking projects, and a Sandra Boyton coffee mug (which I don't think they sell any more), so I don't think I overdid it. Oh, and I was surprised to see in the book box, A Guide to Gnomes, Fairies & Elves, that she'd used in her tea tray setting in our flower show. I'd thought it looked like a neat book then; I didn't know she was just using it for effect. Leafing through it, it seems to be a reprint of a very old publication, an overview of those mythological creatures' appearances in literature as far back as Roman times.
That evening, I'd been invited to a Tupperware party with a bunch of co-workers. A friend of a friend of VT's was hosting it, and wanted as many people to come as possible. The traffic getting there was awful for a Saturday night, and I made the mistake of thinking the wait for a to-go order at In n' Out was less inside the store than the drive-thru line. After I pulled out of the parking lot I set my sandwich down on the seat, then had to stomp on the brake so I didn't run a red light. The bottom bun flew out of the wrapper and under the dashboard, and just out of reach while wearing a seat belt. Luckily, it did land bun side down and not tomato side, so I took my chances, because darn it, an In N' Out Burger just ain't right without tomato.
The house was in a neighborhood in Anaheim, and we walked in the back gate to be greeted by a couple of margarita machine, and a table full of nacho makings, veggies and dip, etc. Guess who hit the margaritas first? ;) Our consultant wasn't there yet, so we pulled out folding chairs, grabbed snacks and chatted. Then she came in the gate, in a accompanied by a pile of leopard print suitcases.
She wore a chiffon leopard print top with bright pink arm-warmers, bellbottom jeans with butterfly embroidery and a wide triangle of more leopard print inserted into the seams from the knees down, six-inch silver and black platform sandals, bright pink eyeshadow up to her eyebrows, and a dangle earring (once a key-ring, I'm sure) announcing "I Heart Tupperware." After ducking into the powder room to remove her wide brimmed leopard print hat, and donning a teased bright-red wig that added at least a foot to her stature, Ms. Roxyann Bobcat became about seven feet of southern accented drag queen who was all Tupperware Lady.
She was a scream. She introduced herself.
"Ah am Roxyann Bobcat, and Ah am here tonight because Dixie (the original consultant who had to cancel) is a whore and just had to run off to New York to go to Broadway!"
Then she passed out order forms, and yelled at us, "Now goddammit, y'all write yer names on those there forms, cause after I've had a few drinks and Ah'm tryin' t' write all them little numbers down, Ah'm gonna be PISSED if Ah gotta write yer name down there too. You think Ah can spell anything after 5 magaritas?" She nearly lost her balance and fell in the pool. She got her wig caught on the edge of the patio roof and nearly pulled it off (Jeezus, that's the first time Ah've been attacked by a roof.). There were several guys standing behind the bar, talking sports presumably and she leered at them regularly, to both nervous laughter and suspicious stares.
Holding a lettuce spinner : "Who all knows what this thing is for? Ah just love Tupperware that comes with its own knob. (leer) So you just put yer greens in there and ya spin it and ya spin it, and it doesn't slahd all over yer counters n' shit!"
"Then we have these here cheese keepers. They've got this special little tab to hang of the side of yer frigde shelves, so ya don't fergit it, and it gits all moldy and gross. They got 'em fer those halves of leftover onion and tomater ya didn't use too. 'Course Ah use 'em fer somethin' else too!" And she reached in her bra and pulled out a plastic half-sphere from each side, one red and one white.
Then there was "all that SpongeBob crap for the kids" and someone pointed out a saucepan at the end of the table that she hadn't shown off. "Oh honey, that stuff's expensive as shit, and no one ever buys the effing things!" Hey, truth in Tupperware sales! "...an the very last lil' bitty thing. This is a lil' salt n' pepper shaker you can carry in yer purse or yer picnic basket or whatever. Ain't it cute? Ah put glitter in mine, pink or blue, depending on what mood I'm in. It's only $2.50, and the money goes to save orphans from braiding shoe laces together in Rawanda or somethin' and an if all of ya don't buy at least that, then you're frickin' pond scum!"
So threatened, I bought a colander and the salt n' pepper shaker. Well I'd been planning to anyway; our old green one was cracked, and it does have a lifetime guarantee. She told me if it's something they don't make anymore, they only offer a discount, and she emailed me later to say I got a whole $3.50 off. My dad also asked me to check if we could get a new lid to a very old little pitcher. Ha! That thing is so old it still has a picture of a seal's face on it (for the Tupperware seal) and I think it's been 30 years since they made pieces like that.
Anyway, $3.50 off is better than a swift kick in the butt, and frankly, most "parties" like this are rather a yawn, but I would have paid that much for the entertainment. I was happy to do it.
I spent 9 'til 1 p.m. at my garden club's annual swap meet space. Once a year, everyone gathers up stuff they want to get rid of, we pay for a space at the swap meet at our local community college (why they still call them swap meets, I don't know - nobody actually swaps anything anymore), and sell some junk. Clothes, knick-knacks, old appliances, toys. We put prices on things, but for the last couple of hours we just let things go for whatever anyone offers. What's left over gets donated to the Project Self-Sufficiency thrift store. These things are dangerous for me, because my pack rat tendencies make me bring more stuff home. I did grab some books to release for BookCrossing, a small piece of mirror for one of John's woodworking projects, and a Sandra Boyton coffee mug (which I don't think they sell any more), so I don't think I overdid it. Oh, and I was surprised to see in the book box, A Guide to Gnomes, Fairies & Elves, that she'd used in her tea tray setting in our flower show. I'd thought it looked like a neat book then; I didn't know she was just using it for effect. Leafing through it, it seems to be a reprint of a very old publication, an overview of those mythological creatures' appearances in literature as far back as Roman times.
That evening, I'd been invited to a Tupperware party with a bunch of co-workers. A friend of a friend of VT's was hosting it, and wanted as many people to come as possible. The traffic getting there was awful for a Saturday night, and I made the mistake of thinking the wait for a to-go order at In n' Out was less inside the store than the drive-thru line. After I pulled out of the parking lot I set my sandwich down on the seat, then had to stomp on the brake so I didn't run a red light. The bottom bun flew out of the wrapper and under the dashboard, and just out of reach while wearing a seat belt. Luckily, it did land bun side down and not tomato side, so I took my chances, because darn it, an In N' Out Burger just ain't right without tomato.
The house was in a neighborhood in Anaheim, and we walked in the back gate to be greeted by a couple of margarita machine, and a table full of nacho makings, veggies and dip, etc. Guess who hit the margaritas first? ;) Our consultant wasn't there yet, so we pulled out folding chairs, grabbed snacks and chatted. Then she came in the gate, in a accompanied by a pile of leopard print suitcases.
She wore a chiffon leopard print top with bright pink arm-warmers, bellbottom jeans with butterfly embroidery and a wide triangle of more leopard print inserted into the seams from the knees down, six-inch silver and black platform sandals, bright pink eyeshadow up to her eyebrows, and a dangle earring (once a key-ring, I'm sure) announcing "I Heart Tupperware." After ducking into the powder room to remove her wide brimmed leopard print hat, and donning a teased bright-red wig that added at least a foot to her stature, Ms. Roxyann Bobcat became about seven feet of southern accented drag queen who was all Tupperware Lady.
She was a scream. She introduced herself.
"Ah am Roxyann Bobcat, and Ah am here tonight because Dixie (the original consultant who had to cancel) is a whore and just had to run off to New York to go to Broadway!"
Then she passed out order forms, and yelled at us, "Now goddammit, y'all write yer names on those there forms, cause after I've had a few drinks and Ah'm tryin' t' write all them little numbers down, Ah'm gonna be PISSED if Ah gotta write yer name down there too. You think Ah can spell anything after 5 magaritas?" She nearly lost her balance and fell in the pool. She got her wig caught on the edge of the patio roof and nearly pulled it off (Jeezus, that's the first time Ah've been attacked by a roof.). There were several guys standing behind the bar, talking sports presumably and she leered at them regularly, to both nervous laughter and suspicious stares.
Holding a lettuce spinner : "Who all knows what this thing is for? Ah just love Tupperware that comes with its own knob. (leer) So you just put yer greens in there and ya spin it and ya spin it, and it doesn't slahd all over yer counters n' shit!"
"Then we have these here cheese keepers. They've got this special little tab to hang of the side of yer frigde shelves, so ya don't fergit it, and it gits all moldy and gross. They got 'em fer those halves of leftover onion and tomater ya didn't use too. 'Course Ah use 'em fer somethin' else too!" And she reached in her bra and pulled out a plastic half-sphere from each side, one red and one white.
Then there was "all that SpongeBob crap for the kids" and someone pointed out a saucepan at the end of the table that she hadn't shown off. "Oh honey, that stuff's expensive as shit, and no one ever buys the effing things!" Hey, truth in Tupperware sales! "...an the very last lil' bitty thing. This is a lil' salt n' pepper shaker you can carry in yer purse or yer picnic basket or whatever. Ain't it cute? Ah put glitter in mine, pink or blue, depending on what mood I'm in. It's only $2.50, and the money goes to save orphans from braiding shoe laces together in Rawanda or somethin' and an if all of ya don't buy at least that, then you're frickin' pond scum!"
So threatened, I bought a colander and the salt n' pepper shaker. Well I'd been planning to anyway; our old green one was cracked, and it does have a lifetime guarantee. She told me if it's something they don't make anymore, they only offer a discount, and she emailed me later to say I got a whole $3.50 off. My dad also asked me to check if we could get a new lid to a very old little pitcher. Ha! That thing is so old it still has a picture of a seal's face on it (for the Tupperware seal) and I think it's been 30 years since they made pieces like that.
Anyway, $3.50 off is better than a swift kick in the butt, and frankly, most "parties" like this are rather a yawn, but I would have paid that much for the entertainment. I was happy to do it.
